


domingo en fuego

by BitterlySpiteful



Series: Above [3]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterlySpiteful/pseuds/BitterlySpiteful
Summary: i think i lost my halo.(Nitram's time after Martin crashlands on the Ground.)





	domingo en fuego

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from 'polarize' by twenty one pilots.

Nitram stumbles back, panting, quickly reaching up to smear blood away from his eyes. Martin stands down the hallway a few paces, breath just as ragged. There's a glint in his eyes, one screaming of rage and _betrayal_ , and Nitram wants to look away but is too scared to.

Then Martin shifts, just slightly, his heel tilts to the side. Nitram leaps back just in time to avoid a wing jabbing in his direction. He admits, he shouldn't have let Martin get him into the inside of the coliseum. His brother is a better fighter in close quarters. Physically stronger, magically weakened. Nitram grips tight to his knife, hearing the comforting singing it's making. 

So long as he keeps distance between them, Martin won't be able to do anything. 

Wishing he'd be able to use the full extent of his magic, Nitram dodges another swipe, ducks, then comes up with the hilt of his knife. Martin sways, knocks his arm aside, and in his opening, gets a kick into his stomach. Nitram backs away, trembling, gasping, refusing to show more weakness than that. But he knows Martin sees it in his eyes, sees his own pain, and he snarls, an unsaid, _You brought this upon us_ aimed at Martin.

A moment. A breath. _You challenged me_ , a quick sneer of his lips. Martin shifts again, subtly, almost so subtly that Nitram misses it, but then he's flashing forward again, featherblades extended. One sinks into Nitram's arm, the rest miss. 

This manages to wrench a cry from him. He knows he's losing. He doesn't think he'd be able to fight and subdue his brother, not for real. Not like this. 

Sparring is different, Nitram decides, ducking again, coming in with another swipe of his knife, which Martin dodges and again tries to knock aside. Nitram blocks, kicks, catches him in the leg and swings around with a wing that clocks Martin in the side of the head. Sparring is so much different because this is for real. This is happening, and there's no going back, and Nitram isn't sure if they're both going to make it out of this. He doesn't think it'll be him.

Nitram's grip on the knife loosens. Martin notices his hesitation - how could he not? - and takes advantage of it. 

And suddenly, Nitram is against the wall, one hand the only thing keeping a featherblade from his neck. He looks down and Martin meets his gaze. The glint of madness, the desperation, and beneath all that there's guilt. Nitram knows Martin better than he knows himself. 

An unsaid, _We can just stop this_ passes, but then Martin grimaces and snaps his head to the side.

Something wiggles in his hearts. Nitram shoves forward, suddenly, ignoring all the signs of hesitation, all the signs of Martin submitting, and he shoves and knocks Martin's wings aside with his own.

Martin stumbles, back hitting the stained, painted glass behind him. Nitram sees the moment the wires inside the glass bend and snap, and then it shatters.

He leaps after his brother, counting small victories. If they're in the air, Nitram has the advantage. 

Forgoing any hesitation, Nitram raises his arm, pinpoints the least harmful point, and sinks his knife in to the hilt. His intention is to grab it out again, but Martin is falling and the storm crackles around them. Nitram snaps his wings out, his freefall halting, jerking his body.

Something's wrong.

Martin twists, left wing starting to open, but the right doesn't move. Martin looks up, clawing as if trying to reach for a hand, and his cry of, "Nitram!" is wrenched out of him before the clouds envelop him and he's gone.

Nitram pants, gasping, hovering for a few moments. Waiting for Martin to come swinging back up, fire in his eyes and fight in his blood. 

But he doesn't.

He waits another moment, another two, and then folds his wings and plunges into the storm. The energy crackles around him, untamed and wild, and even his magic couldn't help with that. There's a short break in the clouds, but then he's back in them, in the thick of the storm, and lightning sings nearby, crackling from the clouds. 

He swoops away, and suddenly the clouds are going, replaced by hail that bounces with metallic cries off of his wings. He raises an arm to keep his head covered, searching the dark ground below. They're over the ocean - god, they're over the _ocean_ \- but there's a small island, maybe one fourth the size of the main capital, to the east. 

He goes for the ocean, first, flying above it, desperately searching for a glint of metal, ears strained for any calls for help. There are none. 

Lightning strikes nearby. Spooked, Nitram swings to the side, still hopelessly searching the waters.

But Martin is just- gone.

Baki tells him, later, when he's treating his wounds, that he did all he could.

There's something unspoken there, something that Nitram can't translate because Baki is only a friend, not his brother. Simon seems to understand, from the look on his face, but he stays quiet. Martin had been his friend, too, more than Nitram. 

He tries to choke out an excuse. He hadn't meant to. He didn't want this to happen. He wasn't going to -

Baki tells him it's okay. Simon remains silent. 

Nitram gets up suddenly, walking away from Baki. He heads for the windows, where he stands and stares. Baki asks him to come back, so he can make sure Nitram will be okay, so he can make sure most of the cuts won't scar all that bad.

He doesn't move.

Back home, their mother had always told them how only one soul can be created at a time. It's a miracle either of them survived birth, and then the subsequent years. She'd told them how they were sickly children, but they clung to each other for dear life. 

Nitram thinks about it often. How he's only a half-soul, his brother the remaining. He's never been without him.

Never.

He knows it's his fault. Of course, obviously, he's the one who won the duel. It's his fault his brother is dead, in everybody else's eyes, but even then they don't know the full story. 

They don't know the desperate look Martin had come to him with, when he'd said, "They're going to kill me. I don't know what to do." They don't know the feeling of an island exploding below them, taking with it all your chance of a happy future, taking with it your eldest brother, taking with it your perfect life, taking with it _everything_.

Everything except for the man who did it.

He never should have let it get this far. Fuck, Martin's all he has- Had. Martin was all he had.

The island on the Ground is small, but it's the only chance Martin has at surviving. If he's not drowned, he's there. Nitram flies low over it, eyes squinting against the wind. He forgot his goggles at home. It doesn't matter.

A ship on the dock bursts with sound, making him swerve as if to avoid an attack. It sounds too much like the oncoming shriek of magic. He watches it push away from the dock, and then start gliding along the water. 

Nitram returns to searching, deciding to start with the heavily forested areas first. Martin wouldn't dare to be around humans. Not if he didn't have a choice.

The trees part beneath him and he drops beneath the canopy, landing in a crouch. Tilting his head side to side, wishing he still had all of his ears, he looks around for any signs of human activity. Once he's sure the coast is clear, he stands and starts picking across the forest.

It takes him another week of searching to find a small scrap of metal, no bigger than his thumb. He bends down to pick it up, turning it to find the ball joint at the end where it had been attached. He pockets it, continuing on his search with more of an urgency. So he crashlanded here, definitely. The piece he found could have been tossed from pretty far away, depending on _where_ Martin hit the ground. Nitram doesn't think it could have bounced too far.

Martin's wings weren't all that damaged when he fell. Nitram made sure not to go for them, made sure he wouldn't purposefully send Martin plummeting to whatever death awaited him on the Ground.

But maybe Nitram was wrong. Maybe something had fucked up with his brother's wings. It's possible, really, especially with the storm that they'd been fighting in the middle of.

A fairy ring hidden by a crude illusion is what he finds next. He paces around the serene clearing, frowning at a banishing sigil carved in a tree. It's easy to put together what happened, really. An angel with fire magic - judging by the burnt logs and ground - found a human practicing magic. 

A desk made from two stumps and a few boards catches his attention. He squats down, taking a second look at the logs and finding small door handles on them. Pulling them open reveals nothing much. Whoever made the circle doesn't know what they're doing. Impressive for a human, not so much if it were for Martin.

Deciding to leave the clearing well enough alone, he gets up to leave, tensing at a sudden sound. A voice suddenly crops up, just beyond the illusion. Nitram darts into the illusion, letting it hide him. 

-can't fucking believe. My idiot of a brother- He’s dating, grumbling. The human mutters some more, and throws something at a tree. It hits with a solid thunk, then drops to the ground. Nitram flinches when the human screams, probably from frustration.

Sighing to himself, knowing that the fairy ring doesn't hold any clues to where Martin is, Nitram decides to leave the - probably insane - human to his own devices. Slowly, he peels away from the tree, stopping when he notices that the human has stopped moving. Or talking.

There's a noise closer to him. The sound of a plant being brushed away. Nitram ducks through the illusion, ignoring the alarmed call asking who's there.

With a snap, his wings are out, and then he's up in the air. He glances down in time to see the man emerge from the illusion. He glances around, but doesn't think to look up.

Swallowing, Nitram flies a bit south, landing again in the forest. He needs to be careful.

He finds another piece of scrap, then another, and another, and suddenly he's staring at a tree nearly sliced in half. Metal pieces are embedded in it, a wire dangling in front of his face. He reaches up to tug it down from where it's snagged. He extends his arm, holding it in both hands, measures it against his own wing. One of the tendon wires. 

So Martin is stuck, definitely. Worry squirms in Nitram's gut. It's entirely possible humans have already found Martin. It's entirely possible he's already dead. Martin would be able to handle whatever the people on the Ground could throw at him on a _normal_ day. Injured, and flightless?

Nitram drops the tendon wire and glances upwards, following the trail of destruction.

Dried blood splatters start appearing, scattered over trees and grass. And then, a sharp divot in the ground where someone had hit it. 

Picking up his pace, worrying at the amount of blood scattered around, and half-sure he's about to find his brother's body, Nitram follows the obvious signs. He breaks into a run nearing what must be the end of the trail, then stumbles to a halt when the forest abruptly ends.

Stomach sinking at the sight of the log house, Nitram glances down, lifting his foot away from where he'd been about to trip over barbed wire. He stands over the spot Martin stopped, staring at the blue stain, staring at where humans had found him.

His eyes sting. He backs up, stumbles, then turns and takes off. 

There's nothing here for him, not anymore.

The house is empty and cold. Nitram stares at the dark furnace, clutching a blanket around himself, clutching the glass to his chest. He sets it down, grabs the bottle, takes a swig from it, and goes back to staring aimlessly.

Someone stops by. They're wondering if their wings are finished. He tells them he's out of business for now, and they leave in a huff. 

Nitram sits back down, closes his eyes, and drinks.

And drinks.

Baki takes the bottle from his hands. Nitram lets him. Ignores the pity in his eyes. 

He stops sleeping. Circles hang heavy under his eyes. Two weeks and he has the handsaw, which he turns on with a snag of magic. Pulls his hair back. Shaves down the horns. The tears that fall are only from the pain of cutting bone.

One night, on the roof, Simon offers him a cigarette. He takes it, smokes, then takes another one. 

I'm not supposed to give you this, Simon mutters, tugging a bottle from his jacket and glancing down at the label. But I think you need it.

Nitram takes it and gives him a nod of thanks and with a pull, the cork pops out. They share the bottle. He admits, He's all I had.

I know, Simon whispers, I'm sorry.

Everything is blurry.

There's a ringing in his ears.

A thundersnow hits. Nitrams locks down the house, ties down loose furniture, ties down all the tools and metal pieces and wings in the workshop, and then he sits in the bay window. When the winds tilt the island, he makes a mental note to fix the balancing weights. They broke a while ago; he'd forgotten to tell Martin.

Hail and ice slam against the boards on the outside of the window. Through the cracks, he sees lightning crackle across the sky.

He breathes in, breathes out. The island tilts and he slides into the wall. He should be in the basement, where it's safe, where it's padded, where he won't be injured.

But he thinks of too many nights down there, with Martin, waiting out storms. Thinks of the conversations, of how the dim lights always made Martin look sharper. Made him look like Father. 

His stomach growls. He holds it and can't remember last time he ate.

Nitram wonders if Mother is still alive. Some part of him hopes she is, just so that he might have a chance to see her again.

He thinks about going home. Thinks about how he could maybe admit everything that happened, plead guilty. Maybe Muran won't execute him. Nitram is only guilty through association. Maybe he still has some hope.

He knows he doesn't

I don't- don't deserve this, He slurs to Baki. I do not _deserve_ this!

He drinks.

And another few days later, Simon is suddenly pounding on the door. Nitram wakes to this, and groggily opening the door, squinting at the midday sun, trying to fight off a hangover. He tries to growl, but then Simon tells him Martin is back.

Martin is back.

He washes. Pulls on a clean change of clothes, shaves down his horns again, and makes sure his hair is mostly tangle free. No need to let Martin know how bad he got.

A glance at the house and he curses himself, and he knows the shop and the garden are even worse. He hasn't done any work in months.

He hurries to the hospital - that's where Simon said Martin was. So he's injured. God, how did he even escape? How did he even survive?

Ignoring the landing pad, he touches down right outside the front doors, and slams them open. The wash of cold air makes Baki look up from the book his sitting and reading. Jin glances over at Nitram, putting together what looks like coffee. 

Nitram asks if he's alright, if he's injured, why aren't you doing anything? 

Baki puts his reading glasses aside and stands from the chair he'd been lounging in. With a wave, he brings him to one of the rooms. Here, he says, and disappears.

Nitram hesitates, fear churning, somewhat sure he's about to find just a body. With a deep breath, he shoves open the door, accidentally slamming it into the wall.

Someone in the bed moves, jerks at the sound, but Nitram's eyes are on Martin, who is standing up in a flash, wings clanking in warning. His hand goes to his side, where Nitram can see that his knife is tucked. For a long moment, they stare at each other.

 _You're alive. /_ _You hurt me. I'm angry._

_I thought I lost you. / You tried your best to._

And then Martin is stepping around the bed, wings rising. Nitram sees the shift in his stance but doesn't dodge. Feathers come flashing and he brings his wings up just in time to block slightly. He hears the wall groan when the feathers shift. Martin unsheaths the knife and puts it to his neck.

He tilts his head up, silently begging, _Please forgive me._

Martin's eyes once had told him everything. They still do, but sometimes Nitram doesn't like what he reads there. Now, though, for once in his life, he realizes there's a rift between them, because he can't exactly tell what Martin is thinking. His half-soul has been ripped from him and stitched back together, and he wants to go to his knees and beg for forgiveness, even though he knows he's not entirely at fault. But he's guilty. He did this, he let it get this bad, and he sees that accusation in Martin's scowl.

"Don't you _ever_ fucking-" Martin's voice cracks, and he whispers, "do that to me again."

The weight pressing on Nitram disappears. Martin steps back, lowers his wings, and flips the knife so that he's holding it by the blade. "Nitram."

And the sound of his name, it's an apology, it's forgiveness, it's reassurance, and it's _We're all we have_.

Heartbeats stuttering from the relief of it all, he takes the knife, some of his nerves easing at the familiar sing of its magic. He says that Martin looks bad. Asks if he ate. _Are you okay?_

Martin snorts, _Of course, I am_ , and turns away.

**Author's Note:**

> martin being the only one with actual spoken dialogue is done on purpose.
> 
> anyway, nitram is my favorite character.


End file.
